This Life We Live
by live2laugh2love
Summary: Booth and Brennan go out for dinner, but by the end of it one of them has collapsed to the floor, lifeless. I promise this won't be entirely heart-breaking, but there's always pain before the happiness.
1. Chapter 1

**So it may or may not have been 6 months since I promised to put this up... sorry. And it's not humor, like my other one. Hope you like it.**

Her cheeks were slowly flooding with pink, her smiles widening and her heart swelling. She stole small glances across the table when he was concentrating on his food. She noticed the way he furrowed his brow when he couldn't manage to pierce a small green pea with his fork. It danced circles around his plate and he continued to stab at it in frustration. She laughed openly at this, not in a form of mockery but amusement. He finally succeeded and placed it victoriously into his mouth. He sat with satisfaction and then flashed her a triumphant grin, garnering more smiles from his partner.

She rested her hands in her lap, fingering the polyester restaurant napkin absentmindedly. Her shoe occasionally tapped against the legs of the varnished wood table at which they were sitting. The roundness of it made them seem farther apart than she would have preferred. The white tablecloth draped across it was smooth and delicate. It was a simple background compared to the intricately painted dishes on which their food was served.

A single candle sat in the center, the flame licked higher and higher, but with each reach it would disappear into the air that it wished so much to consume. It provided light that reached in a perfect circle around their table. All around there were similar tables, occupied by couples of all ages, all lit by that one single candle. Whispered conversations saturated the light feeling of the open space of the restaurant. The moments being shared were those of happiness.

He looked at her and basked in _their_moment of happiness. Even though this dinner was purely a meal between partners, he couldn't help but feel that it had a deeper meaning. He watched as she ate the last piece of her bread pudding. She ate carefully but the sauce still managed to linger slightly on her upper lip. She blushed and reached for her napkin, wiping her mouth. He continued to study her, trying to decide whether or not to speak. He could speak and risk ruining the moment or remain silent and enjoy the time they had together. He decided that he had to say something. He couldn't stay quiet forever. He opened his mouth to speak but before a single noise passed over his lips she crumpled and fell from her chair onto the hard wood floor below.

He leapt from his seat and rushed to her side. He assumed that she had fainted. He grabbed her napkin to fan her, but would never use it. His ear floated over her mouth listening for breathing. He felt her neck and found no signs of life, and went into a panic. He quickly laid her completely on her back and made multiple attempts to bring her back. His firm hands pushed rhythmically into her chest, his mouth pressed on hers, trying to force the life back into her, but there was nothing. Minutes had passed, his efforts were failing. He knew that they would come soon, to take her away, so he pulled her to him and wept.

He held her lifeless body in his arms, willing the life back into her. The life that she was supposed to live. It could not end like this. Her figure lay slumped in his grasp, no movement, the smile she once wore wiped from her expression. Her eyes lay open and lifeless, staring into some abandoned space. He pulled her closer, holding her to him, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up. This couldn't be real, he was dreaming. People stood around with worried expressions, but they knew nothing. They didn't know her life, all that she had done, how many people truly loved her. To them she was another unfortunate soul, lost too early. Her life hadn't been finished.

Booth laid his head onto her chest and her head fell backwards. Her brown curls floated back and dangled mere inches from the ground. Her hand laid delicately on the floor, like it would if she were sleeping. But Her body shook as his sobs sent tremors through the both of them.

He could hear the sirens, their whine tore into the silence. They sounded like a mourning cry, calling out into the night that another life had been lost. The doors swung open and everything flowed into a blur. There were paramedics everywhere, trying to resuscitate her, connecting her to machines, taking her away. They couldn't take her. If they did she would really be gone. He chased after them but was turned away. He was left standing there on the sidewalk, other lives continuing on around him while he was frozen in time. He watched as they drove away, she was leaving him there. His world was moving in slow motion, his eyes blurred and he fell to his knees sobbing into the cement.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Booth..." She tried to sound calm, reassuring but her voice cracked and tears ran down her face. "We need to get to the hospital."

She lifted him up and guided him to her waiting car. He sat there silent, staring out to where he had seen the ambulance drive away. He didn't even ask how she had gotten there and found him. Cam drove into the night, while the city lights sparkled around them. No words were spoken.

_Her lifeless body jerked back and forth on the gurney. Two men gazed down at her. They only saw death, pale skin, hollow eyes. Something too common in this world._

The minute that the elevator doors opened, reality hit. They entered a waiting room full of people who were grieving.

_They wheeled her into a sterile room. They knew she was gone. A doctor entered looking grim, he checked her over, released his breath and spoke the final words. "Time of death, 7:23 p.m." _

No updates had been given and yet everyone knew. Hodgins and Angela sat side by side, holding each other for comfort. She had her head buried in his shoulder, sobbing, while he stared outwards, looking at nothing, holding back the tears that were fighting to the surface. Sweets had his eyes shut tight, head resting back against a wall. The atmosphere was thick, full of thoughts. After a life is lost, those who loved them are flooded with memories of them. These memories overflowed and filled the small amount of air left in the room. Memories of smiles, laughter and joy, no matter how life-changing or simple the moment.

Booth's mind was scattered, throbbing. _What had happened? She was smiling and then she was gone. The doctors had to have answers..._Soft footsteps came down the hallway, and a young doctor stood solemnly before them.

"I'm sorry, we did what we could but she was already gone when she got here. I'm sorry for your loss." He stopped speaking and the silence was deafening. No one spoke or made the slightest noise as if they were afraid to let life continue on. One of their own wouldn't have that chance. "With your permission we would like to discern what killed Ms. Brennan."

Booth looked to Cam, but she shook her head. "I can't Booth. None of us can. As much as we want to, that's 'Brennan' in there. I couldn't do it knowing that it was her body that I was cut...ting... int...o." She spoke between sobs, fighting with herself. She couldn't handle performing an autopsy on Dr. Brennan. But she wanted to figure out what had happened.

"We have people here who will perform an autopsy. With your permission of course," the doctor offered.

"Yes, of course thank you," Hodgins answered. The doctor turned to walk away but Booth stopped him.

"Wait," he choked. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? It was so sudden. I tried... I tried. I couldn't..."

"We know Booth. We know." Angela laid her hand on his shoulder. He kept his gaze on the tile floor, tracing the patterns with his eyes.

"I'm sorry, we don't know anything. For some reason her heart stopped. We _will_find out what happened to her, I promise." He once again turned to walk away but wasn't stopped. The young doctor walked down the hall and into the room in which her body was being held. He informed a nurse that her body was being taken for an autopsy and wheeled the sheet covered form to the lower level. But he did not enter the autopsy room. Instead he brought her body out of a back door and loaded it into the back of a van, climbed in with her, shut the door, and was driven away.

**Note: has any main character ever REALLY died on Bones? Besides Vincent of course. RIP. Just chew on that for a bit.  
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**Well, if you really liked it, I have bad news. This is all I have completed. I actually have an amazing speech from Angela written for the funeral and a few drabbles that I have to connect, so that's good news I guess. This is something that I have had sitting around and never posted. I will try to update once a week but no concrete promises. Reviews and encouragement will definitely help though. Please hang in there. Thanks :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ah! Surprise! I whipped this out early just for you. Enjoy, or don't, because, well, it _is_ sad.**

"Mr. Booth we have some news regarding the autopsy, would you like to come by the hospital today if you have time?" The doctor's emotionless voice echoed through the cell phone pressed to Booth's ear.

"Can't you just tell me by phone?" he snapped. He had been interrogating people for years, he knew the tone of the doctor's voice without second thought. The news would be bad no matter what.

"Normally we are not allowed to disclose such information by pho..."

"Look, I work for the FBI, so unless you want me to find a kink in your medical practice records, your lips better start moving in the next three seconds!" He had dealt with enough the last two days and wasn't going to tolerate some inbred teenager with a stethoscope and an excuse for a medical license.

The man on the other end of the line could only smirk with satisfaction. It was far too easy to play this man. The great Agent Booth wasn't so strong without his partner.

"Although I would prefer telling you this in person, I guess an exception can be made... Mr...ehem excuse me. _Agent_ Booth, our autopsy results came back as inconclusive. Sometimes, unfortunately, there is no real cause. We wish we could offer you more solace. Her body will be sent to the morgue shortly. I am so sorry for your loss. Good day." And he hung up.

Booth's fists clenched tightly, his finger nails digging deeper and deeper into his palm. _How could tree be no answer?_ After all the pain and suffering, there was nothing? She died, for nothing?

He swiftly snatched his keys from his coffee table and raced down the flights of stairs to his car. Before he could take a minute to think clearly or change his mind he was on the footsteps of Cam's house, slamming his hands onto her door.

The chestnut door creaked open and slowly her figure emerged.

"Seeley...?" Her eyes were puffy and sodden, her face stained with grief.

"Cam. I need you to do it." He stated, moving past her and into the house. He walked quickly until he reached the living room. He noticed a single photo on the mantle over the fireplace.

"Do what Seeley?" she replied, finally entering the room.

He stayed with his back turned and studied the photo of her and Michelle. Happiness was spread across their faces as their arms wrapped around each other.

"The autopsy. I need you to do the autopsy. The hospital, they couldn't..."

Cam stared and the back of his suit jacket as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I... can't," she choked out.

"What do you mean you can't?" he yelled, turning suddenly to look at her dead on, his face twisted in anguish. "Don't you care?"

"I do! I swear I do, but it's Dr. Brennan, god, it's your _Bones._ Could you do it? Dissect her like some science project? We've both been through enough! Now I know you need some consolation, but I can't do it. I just can't!" And with that she knelt to the floor choking with sobs.

"You're right," he said, softening at the sight of her obvious feelings of being conflicted. "I shouldn't have expected that of you. I'm sorry."

He lowered to her level, and slowly brought her back up to a chair.

"I just..." he sighed. "Can I make you some coffee?"

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan was one of very few people who could say that they had escaped death on more than one occasion. She had, throughout her life, been kidnapped, beaten, kidnapped <span>and<span> beaten, buried alive, almost eaten alive, shot at, locked in the trunk of a car, and had numerous attempts at her life in general. This situation was no exception. She wasn't entirely sure what they meant to do with her, so she sat quietly, calmly rationalizing a way out.

The room that she was held in was cold and damp, it wreaked of dead fish, which had already made her vomit once, and there was no surface raised above the floor. All that she had was a worn towel to sit on. They had since taken her clothing, so she wore a simple t-shirt and jeans.

When she had first woken, they brought her, with her hands bound, into a room much like her current holding place. The only difference was that there was a silver exam table with a covered body on it and a separate table against one of the walls.

Immediately she was ordered to remove her clothing and set them at the corner of the exam table. She initially resisted, but the gun pressed against her spine made her decide otherwise. She thought that they might leave her in that state, naked and exposed, but one of the men tossed her a bag containing a basic set of clothing. She put on each item, but decided to skip on the underwear, well aware of the fact that all the items were likely used.

One man then pulled back the sheet on the exam table and exposed a body, female, with brown hair much like Brennan's. It wasn't until she was set down on a stool near the woman's head that she realized how alike they truly were.

The woman was an almost direct match for her, and likely, with a little make-up, she could be close to her twin. The same strong jaw, the soft features, even the curve of the eyes and shape of the nose were alike.

At that moment Brennan realized what was happening, and what these men planned to do. What was worse was that they brought other people into it. The woman was just an innocent person, maybe she too had a family, and people who loved her. And what did she die for? To be someone else. Her life was taken because she happened to resemble Temperance Brennan.

For the next hour Brennan had no choice but to remain standing while a young girl held at gunpoint studied and recreated her makeup and hair on the corpse of the woman on the table. The young girl's eyes were bloodshot and her hands trembled nervously, struggling to draw clean lines with the lipstick and eyeliner. With each mistake a guard would get agitated and poke her with the barrel of the gun, but it only made her tremble more.

At one point, Brennan managed to catch the girl's eye and did her best to reassure her of her safety and give her some comfort. But once the girl finished, she became useless to them. One man dragged her into a neighboring room, and after blood-curtling screams and pleas for mercy, there were two gunshots and the earth went dead silent.

Brennan's throat burned and her eyes threatened to burst with tears, but she knew that showing weakness would lower her chance of making it out alive and intact.

So she stayed stone, and cold. And silent. She still hadn't spoken a word since her arrival.

Back in her cell, on her towel in the corner, her eyes searched for a weakness in the structure of the room, or the source of a weapon, but there was none to be found.

Just then one of the men entered her room, carrying a small wooden stool and proceeded to sit on it, looking down at her. He had short, brown hair that crowned in a small tuft at the top. With a strong face and crystal blue eyes, he hardly looked menacing, but the expression on his face was of someone who was capable of pure cruelty.

"Alright, so why don't we start this off simple," he sneered with an accent that could only be English. "I know your name, so I guess it's fair that you should know mine. I'm Darek. It's very nice to meet you. Temperance." His filthy hand outstretched for a shake.

Brennan only eyed him blankly in defiance and refused to move or blink.

"Okay, touching isn't your thing. Well how about talking then? So, do you know why you're here? Or would you like me to tell you?... Just a yes or no, that's all. Just one little word."

But still she refused to react or speak.

"Alright well fine then. Until you start to talk, forget about eatin." He left angrily, bringing the stool with him.

Brennan normally could go for a long time without food. But in this situation, she knew it may not be the best idea.

**Don't ask about the British accent, it was just how his voice sounded in my head. Almost Scottish maybe?**


End file.
